


Heaven Lost An Angel

by Alice (spideychelle_romanogers)



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideychelle_romanogers/pseuds/Alice
Summary: Part of a challenge on Tumblr to create cheesy AUs. Michelle Jones is a triple threat pop star that misses her old normal life. Peter Parker is an unemployed starving artist who is offered the chance to be her assistant. Loosely based on the Versace On The Floor music video.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my readers, this is so so different from what you might expect from me. I just wanted to have some cheesy fun with a new story and I took suggestions from Tumblr on how to make this even cheesier. I hope you enjoy it, I took a lot of liberties. My betas were @female-overlord-3 & @smileholland on Tumblr.

This job wasn’t just Peter’s last hope, it was the only way he’d be able to keep his secret. **  
**

Peter Parker was struggling. A few months out of grad school, Peter was already out of a job. Three years later, he was doing his best as freelance to keep himself afloat. He’d spent three months now on his best friend Ned’s couch, unable to pay his rent. It wasn’t until this offer came up through Ned’s connection at the Daily Bugle that he ever had any hope of getting back to work.

No one really told him what he was interviewing for. He dressed in a t-shirt and jeans like he would for all of his freelance work. When he stepped into the building, he realized his mistake.  He was brought into the office, noting the high ceiling and even snapping a few photos.

He was finally told the name of the man he would be interviewed by: Happy Hogan. He was interviewing people for work as an assistant, but no one could tell him for whom. He didn’t wait long before a man much taller than him came up and loomed over him in the waiting room.

“You’re a bit young,” was all he said before waving for Peter to follow him. The interview was fast paced and nonsensical. It descended from talk about his work all the way to questions like: “Can you take a hit?”

“What?” Peter asked, incredulous.

“Can you take a hit?” he repeated impatiently.

“….Yes.” No.

“How are your reflexes?”

“Good, I think.” Adjusting his glasses, Peter nervously shifted in his seat, looking around the room for help. There were records hanging around the office, trophies on shelves, this man was clearly proud, if a little bit shameless. It looked so clean, Peter could only imagine he didn’t spend much time here.

“Starting tomorrow, I need you to be able to think fast on your feet,” he warned. Peter grinned. “Don’t get too excited. This is a one-time thing for the tour. I don’t like hiring people without experience but this was very last-minute and Mr. Jameson said you’re reliable. What did you major in again?”

“I got my masters in photography,” Peter answered as he distractedly wondered how much begging it took for Ned to convince Jameson to say anything nice. That man had influence, and if there was anything he’d use it for, it’s to tell everyone how useless Peter is at just about everything he does. The only use he had for Jameson was his photos. “He said you’ve been working as his assistant the past three years.”

What did Ned have on Jameson?

“Yes,” Peter lied.

“And before that you were Tony Stark’s intern?” Peter nodded, though that was not as interesting as it sounded. Peter was never even in the same room as Tony Stark. They shook hands and Peter counted his blessings that no one looked too far into this. He was desperate and nothing could stop him from holding this job. “You’ll have to start tonight. We’re on tour all summer and I need someone who can be there every day.”

“I’m ready. Wait- tour?”

“You’ll be assisting MJ,” he noted, as though Peter should already know who that is. Happy stared at him as if he was testing his reaction.

“Oh! That’s great. I’m so honored,” he answered as he stared back, willing himself not to look as confused as he was.

* * *

Walking into the concert hall, Peter caught the last song muffled through the floor. The concrete walls of the basement drowned out most of the noise. Everyone was bustling about so quickly, Peter decided to take a few photos as he walked around. The stage hands didn’t seem happy but he avoided them as he made his way past.

For the most part, Peter’s new employer was a mystery. Being so desperate, he wasn’t in a position to ask a lot of questions. The girl’s name was Mary Jane. While he’d never heard of her before, he did a bit of research before coming. After digging for hours, all he could find was information on her and her fiance. There was almost nothing available on her past or her beginnings.

MJ was known for being almost angelic during interviews and very sweet to her fans. She catered mostly to younger audiences, and her music wasn’t really to his taste. He cringed as the first few bars of music played. Then suddenly, he heard her singing and he was charmed. It would be a pleasure to work with someone so talented and humble.

Making his way backstage, Peter held his staff pass out like he was braced for confrontation. He couldn’t relax until Happy found him.

“Dress differently next time,” was all he was met with before being told to follow him. Peter looked down at himself, still wearing the same t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t realize there was a dress code for an assistant but he made an excuse anyway.

“Okay. I didn’t really have time to run home.”

“We’ll go meet her at her dressing room, then I’ll introduce you to the crew. You’ll have to memorize every face and name you meet, so pay attention.” They were about to walk on when Happy noticed Peter camera, hanging from a strap around his neck. “Do you take that everywhere you go?”

“Yes,” Peter said, adjusting his glasses nervously again. “Why?”

Happy sighed out. “Let’s just see how this goes. Shall we?” Peter Parker had never worked as an assistant in his life but he still told himself with full confidence that he’d make things up as he went along.

* * *

Stepping off her stage, Michelle would always get this rush for a moment that would make her feel like nothing had ever gone wrong. She got into this business for the fans. She loved the idea of someone looking up to her. There was this rush of happiness she felt whenever she took her final bow. Every night ended in more tasks, more news, more scandals to handle, but that one minute of bliss was all she had to hang onto.

That and the phone calls from her mother.

It had been months since she had been home to see her family. Her fiance Harry visited last night and she begged him to stay. It was desperate, it was pathetic, but then, so was she.

The stress wasn’t just taking over, it won her over. All she could feel was down. She used to have allies in this business but with time everyone showed their weakness. Hollywood is enough to break down everyone’s last reserve of good. Michelle learned that the hard way when she found her assistant flirting with Harry. He resisted this time, to his credit. Maybe this meant he was changing but Michelle didn’t really like to admit to her hope anymore.

After firing her last assistant, Michelle became sure that there was nobody left for her to trust. Her manager was supportive, but he would always put his job before her feelings. Tuning out of her own thoughts, she heard the chanting. The concert had been over five minutes now and they were still chanting her name. Well, they chanted-

**Mary Jane.**

They took her name from her too. Now she was MJ, but no longer Michelle Jones. Before she could use that thought to drag herself down again, she smiled to herself, knowing it was a show of love. One of the stage assistants handed her phone to her as she adjusted the shoulder of her dress. There were so many texts asking her how she was. The first one was an apology.

“I really am sorry, Michelle,” the text read. It was Harry.

Rushing back to her dressing room, Michelle turned on the television, looking for the entertainment channel. In silence, she waited. They talked about movies, sports, music, the scandals always came towards the end of the episode. The wardrobe team tried to get her out of her outfit but she kicked them all out so she could watch the news alone. It only took a minute for them to cycle the headlines before getting to the news about Harry.

Harry Osborn, billionaire fiance to the up-and-coming superstar Mary Jane was photographed kissing his ex-girlfriend outside of her apartment in Los Angeles.

Maybe she blacked out for a minute. It felt like an hour had passed before she was aware of her surroundings. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this to her, but it was the first since she really believed he had changed. Just before she could start to panic, she glanced down at her phone again to the apology. She missed the sound of someone knocking on the door as she screamed out and threw her phone to the wall.

Her manager stepped in with some kid standing behind him. She was embarrassed anyone caught her in her outburst, but she reacted as though it was his fault for interrupting. Happy looked unamused, but the kid looked downright horrified.

“This your nephew, Happy?” she asked, her tone bored. She hated when the crew would bring family by to meet her. She needed privacy, not more people poking around.

“You should be changed by now,” he noted. For someone so much older than her, he really managed to stay young. His skin was clear for someone with such a high-stress job. Michelle assumed it came with the power of their influence now. She was a household name now, he had everything he wanted out of her.

“I’m busy. Leave,” she huffed, resisting more outbursts for the moment. When the rage subsided, the tears would come. She wanted Happy and the guest out of here so she could have her moment. Looking behind Happy, she saw a short kid with a staff pass and a camera. “I’m not in the mood for pictures right now so you’ll just have to go home.”

“Meet your new assistant,” Happy said gesturing to the boy behind him. He looked so young and a little familiar but she didn’t pay it any mind. He looked unremarkable, in her opinion. Everyone did. “This is Peter Parker.”

“Are you kidding?” Michelle asked, pulling her earrings off and throwing them on her vanity.

“You specifically asked for a man.” Happy didn’t say it but she could hear the insinuation:  _a man so that Harry can’t flirt with them._

“Yes, a man,” she repeated, not noting she also wanted someone mute so she wouldn’t have to listen to them. The kid hadn’t spoken yet, maybe that favor had been served at least. She took a good look at him. “This isn’t a man, it’s a boy. He looks ten. He looks like a fan.”

“Mary,” her manager warned in a stiff tone. Michelle rolled her eyes and turned to Peter.

“I am very sorry…. Pedro, was it?”

“Peter.”

“Peter, I am very sorry but this isn’t going to work. I’m sure Happy can find you placement with the stage hands.”

“I don’t have time to hire another assistant, Mary, so you either keep him or you get your own coffee.” Michelle scowled at her manager, not knowing why he insisted so heavily on calling her by a name she detested. At the very least, backstage, he could call her Michelle. “Or we can hire Emily again, since it seems Harry can’t be helped regardless.”

Michelle felt that burning inside at how cruel the comment was. Swallowing, she told herself not to remind Happy it was his fault she’d ever met Harry in the first place. “I can give Emily a call,” Happy continued, reaching for his phone. Michelle knew he was bluffing but she could feel her chest closing up. She needed them to leave.

“He stays for the tour. Just for the tour.” Peter looked worried at the idea of being out of a job in a few months. Surely someone would hire him if he survived the summer, right? She had a reputation for being difficult. If he could survive this, he could survive anywhere. Michelle wouldn’t let herself feel responsible for someone else’s livelihood.

Happy left without a word, but Peter was too busy staring at her in fear to realize they were alone. She gave him another look over, at one point lifting the collar of his shirt to feel the material. Polyester, dear God. “If you annoy me once, Pedro, you’re out,” she said, getting his name wrong yet again.  “And for fuck’s sake, ask Happy for an advance and go get yourself some new clothes. I won’t have you embarrassing me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m fine, May!” Peter yelled into the phone over the music as he paced in Mary’s fitting room. They just started a show. During the opening act, Peter didn’t have much more to do than to make sure Mary didn’t need water. She was generally low-maintenance during her opening act’s performances, often listening carefully to the performance. It was difficult to catch Mary vulnerable but she always seemed to wear her feelings on her sleeves as she listened to them sing from backstage.

Being her assistant, Peter was the only crew member on set allowed to wait in her dressing room during the show. He watched the first few concerts from the wings but often the experience just made him nervous. As composed as she seemed on stage, knowing how spontaneous Michelle could be backstage made him worry that something would go wrong during the show.

Besides, the break gave him a little time to catch up with everyone. Since he started working nights and touring with the group, he had almost no time to talk to May or his friends back home. May was far too worried about him. If two days passed without her hearing from him, she’d panic and call. It was more cute than it was concerning.

“Are you sure you’re eating enough? She sounds like she’s overworking you. Are you being overworked?” Peter considered lowering the volume on the speakerphone so May wouldn’t get him into trouble. It was just impossible to hear her otherwise with all the noise coming from the concert.

“No, she’s great!” Peter lied warmly. Every time Aunt May fell into these rants about self-care, he remembered how lucky he was to have her. “Have you listened to her music yet?” He thought maybe making May research her would keep her entertained for some time. May loved celebrity gossip, so though Mary’s target demographic was mainly teens and young adults, her life in the press was certainly a worthy read.

“I listened to a song on my commute!” she piped in animatedly. “She sounds like she can sing.”

“She really can,” Peter chimed in. Maybe he didn’t like her behavior on set, but Peter learned not to criticize her career. Mary was a better singer than anyone could know from listening to her songs. She sang backstage all the time, mainly other people’s music. Anyone could see she had a good voice, even if her original songs were very basic. If there was anything he could be happy about, it was that Mary at least had talent. Even if she was a bully.

Looking around the dressing room, he also reminded himself that Mary was also incredibly touched by her fans and her opening act. Peter never got a proper look at the room before but when he was expected to help set it up this morning, he had to admit it was a comfortable space. The walls were different, of course, as this was their third city in two days. He could get a feel for her interests in the decor. She only carried around photos of her family, a few souvenirs, and some fan art to hang by the mirror.

Their opening act was the epitome of what Mary was working for. Though he didn’t have much company with Mary, considering she was always disappearing into one room or another, Peter found himself at home with the crew. From the first day, he found the right group to float around with, that group being the assisting staff for the opening act. The girl, Liz, was barely eighteen and was selected to perform with Mary through a contest. Talking to her for only a few minutes, Peter could tell unlike the crew she was actually quite charmed by Mary.

MJ was so difficult to understand that Peter didn’t even bother trying to figure out how anyone could be charmed with someone so self-obsessed. He had to recognize Mary’s influence on Liz’s life though. She set up a contest for one of her fans to tour with her. According to the crew, from the day Liz won the contest, she spent every day floating around like she was dreaming.

In fact, one of the fan letters on the desk were one of Liz’s own to Mary from before the contest. Mary had it framed when Liz won. Their friendship seemed to mean everything to her. Peter had to admit that meant there was something good below this facade of her disrespecting just about everyone in her path. He hoped it did, at least.

“I’ve heard Mary sing she’s so, so talented,” he continued with a smile, running his finger on the edge of the frame. The words were scribbled across the front in cursive handwriting, with hearts on the i’s.

Hearing the door close behind him, he turned quickly. Mary was grinning, looking like she’d caught him. ‘Awww’ she mouthed. He rolled his eyes and pulled the phone off his ear just to say something when May replied-

“Can I meet her?” her words sounded out from the speaker. Peter just stared at Mary as she giggled.

“I’d love to meet you!” she announced animatedly.

Peter nervously tapped the button to take the phone off speaker. Mary took the phone from him before he could stop her.

“Hello there, this is Mary Jane,” she answered with a practiced whimsical tone. “Who am I speaking with?” Peter couldn’t hear May’s side, but he could guess what she was saying. “It’s nice to meet you, May. If you’d like to stop by sometime and hang out backstage, I’d love for you to come see Peter at work. Yes, he’s been doing such a great job here. I think you’d really enjoy it.”

All he could do is wait for the conversation to end. By the time he got the phone back, he could hear May’s pitch was so much higher. “I’ll see you this weekend, May,” he said stiffly before saying goodbye and hanging up.

“She seemed nice.” Peter didn’t answer. “Oh, come on, I was trying to be nice. Bring her backstage! I love moms, they’re so cute. Come on, Pedro,” she cooed the nickname out as if it was supposed to make Peter something other than annoyed.

“We can’t come to your concert this weekend,” he explained carefully. He just realize he’d never explained to Mary that he asked for the time off when they went to New York. He was normally supposed to take two weekdays off, but he made a special request just to stop by and see May and Ned.

Technically, since he wasn’t a union worker, he didn’t have the right to so much time off. But he told Happy that when he wasn’t taking work off-book, he was a union worker. Being in a union basically just gave him access to better rights as an employee if he adhered to the group’s rules. It took a certain level of experience and work history to even qualify to be in a union, neither of which Peter had. The way unions worked, though, was employees weren’t supposed to take jobs that aren’t posted through the correct channels. Since Happy was technically hiring him under the table, he wouldn’t be able to check whether he was lying or not.

Peter didn’t really think lies out in the long term but for now it was really working out for him.

Before he could answer, Happy stepped in.

“Shouldn’t you be backstage?” he asked Mary.

“Opener’s only three songs in,” she sighed out, turning away like she always did. Peter wondered if Happy ever had a conversation with Mary that didn’t end in her turning her back on him.

“Peter, I came to tell you you’ve got Friday and Saturday off. We’ll need you back Sunday night to pack up, but you’re all set to leave after tonight.” Mary turned back to them both, confused.

“Friday’s New York! He doesn’t get the day off. I need my assistant,” she insisted.

“Peter’s union. He gets to pick his days.”

“ _You’re_ union?” Mary demanded incredulously.

“You’ll be fine. Harry is coming,” Happy interjected.

Peter winced. After everything she’d done this week, she looked at Happy like he was joking. She was on a roll after all, throwing her phone at a wall when someone brought up the tabloids, forcing Peter to erase their photos off her phone, blocking Harry’s number from her phone, throwing away the gifts he sent her.

It wasn’t like she was announcing their split publicly or doing anything others would notice, but the crew certainly learned to pretend they believed her. Peter had never really seen a vengeful woman post-breakup before but Mary’s behavior made him increasingly glad he never had the experience before.

“Have you not been listening? Harry and I broke up.”

Happy looked like he was resisting an eye roll.

“It’s just a fight. You’ll work it out.”

Even Peter felt that was a bit unfair. When Mary turned her back again, Peter just looked between them before watching Happy leave. He was about to step out behind him when he turned back, feeling just a little guilty.

* * *

As the silence fell in the room, Michelle figured she was alone. She took deep breaths, trying to recenter herself.

Michelle couldn’t believe the kind of tricks the crew loved to play on her before she had to go on stage. She was having a fine day. No one talked to her, she got to sit and read in her room for most of the day. It had been so long since she picked up a book, it set her up for a romantic outlook on the rest of the day.

Maybe she wasn’t exactly being nice or fair to Peter but it was nice to have a distraction when she really needed it.

“Do you need anything, Mary?” She did her best to sound unsurprised that Peter stayed.

“Don’t call me Mary,” she muttered, her back still to him.

“Ms. Jane?” She looked put-off but she didn’t answer him.

“Most assistants don’t call their employers by their first name,” she noted blankly before walking to the mirror and playing with the makeup on her face. Peter approached but she waved him away.

“What should I call you?” She still didn’t answer. If he wasn’t getting any hints, he had no hope of surviving. “MJ?”

“That’s fine,” she said, walking out of her dressing room without looking at him.

* * *

Stepping off the stage during one of the short costume changes, Michelle looked for Peter among the crowd of workers. He was just about to snap a picture of Liz and her band, when Mary whispered into his ear, making him jump.  

“You might want to start doing your real job, Peter.” After a yelp, Peter straightened up again, trying his best to look amused. Michelle could tell she got under his skin and that was just so pleasing to her.

Nodding, he waved a quick, sheepish goodbye to the band as they walked off. Peter walked with her to the changing station as he always had to, in case she had updates.

Waving to Liz too, Michelle waited until she was out of earshot to start talking. “As happy as I am to see you’re not a complete angel, Parks, I would prefer it if my opening act was off-limits.”

“What?”

“Liz is lovely. Everyone hits on her. You’re not in trouble, but she is a precious baby duck and needs to be protected at all costs. That’s a real order, by the way, write it down.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“I won’t tell on you.”

“But I wasn’t flirting!”

She just moved on to her point. “Speaking of this union issue, I need you to pick another day off.”

“I have plans,” Peter said as if his word was final. She scoffed.

“Did you hear me before? This weekend is New York. So can you handle this, get it all fixed?”

“Handle what? You haven’t explained!” He chased after her. “Try communicating, maybe.” Peter was picking up the tone of voice everyone used on her. Like she was a child. Maybe she was being insistent, but she hadn’t done anything to Peter yet to make him treat her like she had already disappointed him.

“I need you there,” she breathed out, too stunned to be angry. Someone called for her to get to the changing room already. There was a passing moment of sympathy, she could see it in Peter’s eyes. Waiting for him to change his mind, she watched the moment pass.

“You’re going to be late.” No one ever acted on their pity for her, so she couldn’t even be surprised.

* * *

As the familiar track guided her back on stage for the last time, Michelle felt relief as she sang the closing number. As the lights blinded her, she waited patiently for the choreography to guide her to the front of the stage where she could see all of her fans.

Keeping it all in was hard but she did it for moments like these. So long as she appeared happy on stage, her fans would be smiling as she closed.

After all, she was the least and most like herself on stage. Being looked to from the audience was what this career was all about, but the performance was so overwhelming. Being on stage meant having to pretend she didn’t hate having so many eyes on her. On tour, she remembered how much more comfortable she found it to lounge around, writing the music the label would never publish. Perhaps performing would feel less intimidating if she felt she was putting her best work out there, but she wouldn’t be unappreciative about her success. As she hit the last chorus of the song, she crouched down next to the edge of the floor, just close enough to reach out her arm and touch a few girls holding signs out at her.

One of the girls just cried looking at her. Michelle normally didn’t break a sweat, but as she sang the last words, she remembered just how much she’d sacrificed to get here for a moment like this.

Holding it together just barely, her voice was a little shaky as she yelled her goodbyes enthusiastically to the crowd.

Maybe it was just the hit of everything that she was facing with Harry, but Michelle needed a friend. Walking off stage, Liz immediately cheered at her like she always would. Michelle just ran into her arms in a hug. Before she could even feel the time passing, Liz asked her if she needed to go talk. Michelle didn’t realize she was crying until Liz pulled her onto her side and tried to guide them to her room.

* * *

The thing is, Michelle Jones is not ruled by her emotions. Especially not weak ones. Self-pity is weakness. After everything she’d been through, all Michelle had to credit herself on was that she was stronger than anything anyone could throw at her. Maybe other people needed to be comforted but Michelle didn’t need someone to comfort her and make her get herself back together.

On that note, she didn’t need Happy to solve her problems. Though if she really thought about it, having Peter there wasn’t a priority, she just knew it gave her the upper hand. The more people between herself and Harry, the better. She wanted someone there to be on her side. Maybe Peter wasn’t willing to help her, but she would make it happen herself.

So she looked into his legitimacy. Of course, she knew Happy hired him off the books. If he had gone through the usual channels, filling the position would have taken weeks, and they only had days. They were lucky they found Peter at all.

But Peter didn’t seem to know what he was doing, much less have the kind of experience union workers had.

It just took a very quiet phone call the next day to figure it out. Maybe she was putting them at risk of exposure but at this rate she was just feeling impulsive. Michelle was practically curling into herself from laughing when she finally found him. She called him into her dressing room with a curl of her finger, doing her best not to crumble into booming laughter until after the door was closed.

“How about that union, huh?” she chimed animatedly.

“MJ, we talked about this already.”

“It’s funny, none of them have even heard of you before. Granted, there are plenty of Peter Parkers scattered through the unions, but unless you’re from Kentucky or secretly fourty-three, you are not any of the men they found.”

Silence. She was loving this.

“I can explain-” She didn’t think she could grin anymore until she heard those words. Maybe this wasn’t nice, but it was deserved. She refused to let everyone on tour ignore her. She needed at least one ally.

“Parks, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me or you’re fired.” This was the fifth time she threatened to fire him. At this point, they both knew the threat was empty but Peter didn’t want to push her to follow through.

“It’s Parker.”

“Stop doing that,” she waved it off. “Have you ever actually done this job before?”

His breath hitched. “No.” MJ laughed.

“Then why are you here?”

“I need this job.” Peter said coolly, though she could tell he was actually terrified. “Just let me explain-”

“I can explain for you: You’re on my side now,” she explained slowly as if to a child, in a similar tone to the one he used on her the night before. “You and I are a team. I go down, you go down, okay?”

“What?”

“That’s the deal. If you want to keep this job, I own you now. You’re on my side, not Happy’s, not the crew’s. Do you understand?” Peter nodded, sure to remember just how pleased she seemed with the result. “Maybe I have a use for you after all, Parker.”

Peter looked so shaken she almost felt bad for him.

“Cheer up! About this weekend, you’ll just take a different day off. Your mom can still come, though. Be sure to get those clothes I was telling you about. They won’t let you in the venue like that.” She couldn’t imagine why anyone would buy shirts like the ones he wore and wear them to work. Freelancers were so out of touch. “My ex-fiance will be stopping by. So whatever you do, don’t speak,” she continued quietly.

“Why not?” he asked, hesitating. She just laughed like it was a funny joke that he was even asking questions.

“Keep that up. He’s going to hate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta @smileholland


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil weird sorry

Peter knew the New York concert had to be big, but he never imagined it meant double the work when they arrived. He barely got eight hours to himself overnight before they were all called to work. When the stage hands weren’t asking for Peter’s help, MJ was throwing a new tantrum that he had to get involved in. He was fortunate enough that it wasn’t about anyone on the crew, and usually just about the management team. Unfortunately for him, he walked in on the conversation about her latest stage outfit.

While Mary was being a total diva, he had to admit he liked liked this look on her. She was wearing oversized shirts and sweatpants that didn’t match. If she wasn’t so beautiful, Mary Jane would have looked almost human in this moment. She looked like she’d slept in part of her makeup and ruined her hair. It was almost charming.

“I am not going to be in that horrifying costume longer than I need to be,” she announced to the crew, though the conversation was really between herself and Happy. She went off on a speech about the costumes she’d rejected so far, as the crew just went back to work and ignored her.

For a girl with her name on the stage, no one ever took Mary seriously. It only took him a few hours to realize that. While it was partly her doing, what with her constant tantrums, he had to recognize no one would take her word for anything. She could be begging not to do something and the crew would still obey her manager without stopping to consider her.

Peter would feel bad if she didn’t make it impossible to sympathize.

“We need you to be fit into it so that it won’t slip,” were the manager’s final words before she resigned to her fate. Mary was much like a reluctant child in this way. Someone, an “adult” in this metaphor, would always come by and tell her she didn’t have another choice. It’d push her into another tantrum, but ultimately she would come around.

It was a little sad to watch. Mary was a grown woman without choices.

“That’s because it’s a small scrap of fabric," she mumbled stubbornly.

“It’s an expensive, beautiful, well-sewn scrap of fabric. Custom-made for your concert today. So you will put it on,” he said calmly. It wasn’t even a real argument. He walked away, answering his phone and not paying her incredulous expression any mind.

“What’s this dress everyone’s talking about?” Peter asked, stepping up to her, his coffee at hand.

She sighed. "Happy called in a few favors. Some up-and-coming designer is making me a custom piece for the concert.”

“Oh,” he replied, thinking that was the end of that. She just laughed.

“You sound as bored as I feel," she noted, taking his coffee from him. Before he could say anything, she just walked away like she always did.

* * *

Michelle was never one to turn down a challenge. When they told her at the head of this tour that the New York concert would feature entirely different choreography, she was excited. Arriving at rehearsal, she could tell this would be a mess. Most of the new routines she knew well enough that they were actually fun to rehearse.

When the choreographer premiered the first new dance, she felt hopeless. “Mary, we’ve tried this dance before.”

“We got through it once two months before the tour even started.” Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she stared herself in the mirror and tried to adjust the sweater wrapped around her waist. Trying again, she stumbled through a quick step. 

“Can we change that?”

“Can you try getting through the routine before you start making changes?” Michelle huffed, suddenly remembering the choreographer was rarely on her side depending mainly on the day.

A half hour passed before she could even do the full routine once. As she watched herself move, she caught sight of Peter passing by behind her tying rope around a crate the crew was about to move. Michelle found herself briefly wondering how someone so scrawny was strong enough for the crew to be looking to him for help. Actually taking a second to observe him, she noticed definition in his arms she hadn't noticed until his muscles flexed helping a stage hand with a metal bar. Suddenly, the choreographer called her name and she started hitting the beats too hard when trying to keep up with the other dancers.

“Again!” Michelle huffed as she started, sweating as her eyes drifted back to Peter, who was blatantly staring at her now. “Too hard, Mary!” Why the choreographer insisted on calling her her stage name, she had no idea. It was no wonder Peter still called her Mary Jane. Most of the team did even though they knew perfectly well that it wasn’t her real name.

Then again, it wasn’t her fault the clueless assistant couldn’t do a simple google search.

Peter was still staring even as she tried to focus on her reflection. Glaring at the mirror, she started getting aggressive with her moves as she willed him to look away. “Softer, Mary.”

Michelle huffed. As the music started up again, she started singing the song as she practiced.

“This isn’t a full rehearsal.”

“If I can’t do this while singing, then it shouldn’t be in the routine.” She immediately went back to singing as she moved through the dance.

“You’re going to tire yourself.” Michelle just sang louder as she pushed through the routine. She was running out of air before long, her lungs cramping up.

“Stop!” The music cut. “Mary, come get water.” Approaching the choreographer, the woman touched her shoulder as Michelle reached for her water. “Okay, you need to calm down.”

“Okay.”

“You know what this show means to you, don’t work against yourself. You’re the only one who stands to lose if this doesn’t go well.” Realizing the choreographer was briefly taking a break from hounding her, she tried to lift her own mood for a minute, just long enough to appreciate it. 

“Okay.” Pacing to her spot, she saw Peter sneak another look at her through the mirror. She held a finger up to the instructor, quietly asking for a minute. She jogged up to her assistant. “Can you go get coffee or something?” she asked Peter.

“Um, sure,” he muttered, looking confused.

“And when you get back maybe stop staring. You’re making me nervous,” she muttered.

“Sorry.” Michelle nodded before going back to her spot.

* * *

 

As always, the best part about Mary, maybe the only good thing about her sometimes, was she had the talent. He could see it in how she picked up the choreography. Even if she was getting corrections, it was clear her heart was in performing, even if she was a wreck in everything else.

Being on Michelle’s “side” could get so confusing. The more he found out about her the harder it was to understand anything she did. So far he didn’t get made to do anything uncomfortable. His one order so far was to take care of Harry when he arrived. At first, Peter thought Michelle just meant getting Harry coffee or something simple until she gave him strict instructions never to let him in the same room as her.

“Can’t you use your bodyguards for that?”

“It’s a long story,” she sighed out, a little exhausted with him by the sound of it. 

Other than this assignment, the worst of the commands were in helping her cheat the diet she’d been put on, which frankly Peter didn’t really mind doing. Whatever food she had him buy, she’d share it and he was pretty sure his life was changed by the nachos she ordered last time.

* * *

 

The day was progressing slowly. Mary was not joking when she said New York was too busy a time for Peter to be missing. Even with him there, everyone was spread too thin. For some, the prospect was exciting. Mary's costume designer was excited to debut a new look that night to help her compete against the new designer they were being in. The backup dancers were grinning all through rehearsals. Backup singers were singing the day away, practicing when they never practiced for other concerts. The special effects coordinator, Peter's personal favorite among the crew, was pushing for test after test.

Meanwhile the rest of the crew just seemed to feel the weight of how much work this would spell out for them. Peter felt the same way, running left and right to help when Mary left him without work to do.

He knew better than to sit idle, especially with the glares he'd get for sitting and texting when he could be assisting. Backstage crew functioned like a family, not a team. The criticism, gossip, and resentment circulated if it wasn't controlled. Things were great if he could get along with them, but his job was made harder if no one trusted him. So Peter learned quickly that he had to become as invested as they were in making it through the night.

A few people turned as someone made it in late. The man was well-dressed with a kind face. He was familiar in a way Peter couldn’t tell from so far away as he turned to help a few people lift a light over to a man high up on stacked crates trying to raise the bars.

“Where can I find Michelle?” he asked someone behind Peter. Peter didn’t pay him any mind beyond that, simply overhearing the response:

“He’ll know.” He didn’t see the other man point to him, so the tap on his shoulder came as a surprise. He nearly dropped the light as he turned. 

“Could you tell me where to find Michelle?” the man asked again.

“Who?” Peter asked, his tone a bit unpleasant as he was trying to focus on something else. The man sighed, though not unkindly.

“Mary Jane?” It took all of his skill at lying to keep his mouth shut about not having known.

“Right. Sorry,” Peter nodded, not thinking too long about who he was speaking to. He waved for the man to follow him as he made his way around stage. Since when was Mary’s name Michelle?

Wandering the hallway, he tried not to think of how small he felt in comparison to the taller man. He seemed about his age, but the height difference and the intimidating nature of his suit kept Peter silent, especially considering how he’d lipped off before when he was distracted.

Stepping into rehearsals, Mary looked ready to pounce on Peter for interrupting when she saw the man standing behind him.

“Parker, you had  _ one _ job,” she exclaimed loudly at him, glaring through the mirror before turning around. As Mary (or Michelle?) approached, Happy entered the room, interrupting before anyone could do anything.

“Parker, a word please?” Peter’s mind was still turning, figuring out the man he just brought to Michelle was the very man he was meant to keep away from her.

“Happy, what is he doing here?” Michelle demanded, gesturing at Harry as she caught up with them.

“Michelle, please. Not here,” Harry insisted patiently, looking embarrassed.

“If not here then where, Harry? In LA in some black SUV with your ex? Where is an appropriate time and place-” Michelle’s voice was loud enough that everyone had stopped working. Peter shared in the embarassment Happy and Harry were both feeling. While he agreed she had a right to yell, this wasn’t the place.

“Take her to her dressing room?” Happy requested of Harry. Peter didn’t even understand how that was supposed to help. Harry had no control on moving Michelle, she wasn’t a dog to be led by her leash. Harry held her by her shoulders as Peter started following Happy out of the room, trying to watch behind him to see her.

* * *

 

“I need a favor,” Happy started unceremoniously when they entered the prop room. He closed the door behind him, leaving him and Peter the only two in the room besides a seamstress working away at a large cloth bracelet.

“Anything, sir,” Peter answered nervously, his eyes darting around the oversaturated colors in the room. He finally met Happy’s eyes only to see how serious he was.

“If this concert is any indication, we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Mary Jane can hardly keep up with the routines, she’s got low energy, she’s rushing,” Happy listed to make his point. “I need you to keep an eye on her.”

“I’ve been trying, sir,” Peter insisted, feeling childish the more he addressed the man.

“No, I mean I need you to keep an eye on her and report back to me.” Peter lost his words for a minute.

“Report what?”

“Just tell me who she talks to, what she eats, what she does,” he instructed. “You have to think of it like babysitting, Peter. We all do.”

“Um-” Peter couldn’t stop himself from wanting to protest but Happy was already leaving. 

“Start tonight,” he ordered before opening the door and making his way out. Peter looked to the seamstress. She just stared at him before going back to her work.

* * *

 

There could not be two more contradictory jobs, keeping Happy updated and being on Michelle’s side. He would have to tell her, being that disobeying her could cost him his job more quickly than just putting off Happy’s task. Before he could reach the door of the dressing room, he could hear them fighting.

Peter didn’t interrupt until the yelling got loud enough for the crew to hear.

Before he could think of what to say, Harry announced his entrance. “Great!” Peter didn’t know what he was referring to but he could tell by the scene that he’d interrupted at a good time. Michelle looked ready to pounce. She calmed down slightly before turning to Peter.

“Did you need something?” she asked, her tone bitter but masked with politeness.

“We c-can hear you,” he said nervously, unsure of whether that would set them off.

“How does your new assistant not even know your real name?” Harry brought up suddenly, walking off to the welcome basket set in the room for Mary and searching. He found a small bottle and proceeded to open it. Peter balked at how easily he seemed to find himself at home in her space. She looked livid.

“Lay off, Harry,” she barked, her voice quieter now that the door was open.

“He’s not like your other assistants.”

“Because you can’t sleep with him?” she asked pointedly. Peter’s eyes widened but he decided enough was enough and this just wasn’t his business. As he began to close the door, Michelle forcibly stopped it. “Don’t shut that. I’m leaving. We have to go to my fitting. You can wait here, Harry, it’s a closed set.”

With that, she marched out, leaving Peter to awkwardly shut the door and avoid Harry’s glare.

* * *

 

“I look like a tinsel sash,” Michelle mumbled. The seamstress chuckled.

“But a cute one.”

“I hate the shoulders,” Michelle noted, uncomfortably shifting side to side as she stared in the mirror. She turned to see Peter’s reaction only to see him buried in his phone. Feeling alone in her opinion, she realized the seamstress was probably the last person to be able to help her. “Is there anything we can do about the shoulders?”

“They might make it hard for you to dance,” she noted. Michelle smiled, grateful she wasn’t going to defend the designer who made the dress. Maybe Michelle was asserting her own opinion but she also feared the low practicality of the costume choice. She was struggling enough with her dance as it was. “I could fix them.”

“Please?” Michelle asked, her voice desperate in a way she didn’t allow it to be around most.

Someone knocked at the door. “Are you decent?” It was Happy.

“Come in,” Michelle called out, ready to tell him the adjustment that needed to be made.

As he walked in, Happy’s expression upon seeing the dress was not what she expected. He was grinning. “It looks amazing.”

“I mean, it’s nice-”

“Nice? It’s perfect. It fits like a glove.”

“But the shoulders are a bit chunky-” Michelle was too tired to scream out her opinions but she wasn’t exactly whispering. Still it felt like she was shouting into a void and no one could hear her. 

“They’re dramatic. This costume is great.” He turned to the seamstress. “You did an amazing job with the fit.”

“Are we sure we don’t want to revisit the shoulders?” the seamstress suggested.

“I don’t think the designer would like it if we changed anything. It’ll be perfect as is.”

“I can’t dance in this, Happy,” Michelle repeated.

“You’ll figure something out. If it doesn’t work, you can fake it.” Happy didn’t take this nearly as personally as Michelle did.

“I want to do the same dance as the backup dancers. I won’t fake it.”

“Most singers do.”

“I am not most singers.”

“The dress stays, Mary. It’s too late to change, we don’t have another dress for you.” Michelle sighed out. Peter finally approached.

“I don’t like the shoulders either,” he added. Michelle smiled, though in the back of her mind she wondered if he was supporting her because he had to or because he wanted to.

“Too bad,” Happy chimed. “We don’t have time to worry about it.” Happy gave Peter a fierce look that Michelle couldn’t pinpoint reasoning for.

“Maybe he’s right,” Peter amended near immediately. Michelle was surprised at him but she pushed on.

“How is he right? I need to be able to dance.”

“If you change the shoulders, the designer won’t be pleased,” Happy continued.

“Yeah, maybe we can try it out during the dress rehearsal,” Peter supported.

Michelle just stared at Peter, disappointed it took so little time for him to flip on her. She was making a rational argument and still no one wanted to take her seriously. Too hurt and tired to continue, she started pulling down the zipper of the gown and walking away with the seamstress behind her, ushering her behind the changing curtain.

Once she knew they couldn’t see her, she stripped off the dress and sat on the floor. The seamstress looked concerned but didn’t say anything. Michelle just squatted against a wall, thinking. So long as she was in here, it seemed like at least one person in the room wasn’t entirely against her. Once she left, who knew how long it would be until she got to know that feeling again. Even Peter abandoned her.

* * *

 

It’d been two hours since Peter last saw Michelle, which is more time than all of his breaks on a normal day combined. It felt foreign being in a room without having to watch her. 

After a third run through every room he’d seen her in all day, he finally settled on looking for Harry, knowing they must have been fighting. He found him out by the private alley taking a smoke. The man looked like a model in all moments, if Peter hadn’t learned to fear him, he would have probably been intimidated on looks alone. Harry had a glare that could cut into you like metal.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, not knowing what he was apologizing for. “I just can’t find Mary.”

“Michelle?”

“Right.”

“She hates when people call her Mary.”

“Everyone always calls her Mar-” Peter started to argue until Harry gave him a glare to remind him that he answered his own question. “Oh.” No wonder Michelle seemed disappointed with him. Peter had always tried to figure out what he did to set her off.

“That is the nature of stage names. Did you check her dressing room?” Peter nodded. “Rehearsals? She likes to sit in with the dancers.” Peter nodded. “The spread room with the food?” Clearly, Harry seemed to have assumed that Peter didn’t try looking at all.  Finally, he settled on a permanent answer. “She’s probably in a pipe room or something.”

“What?”

“Near a boiler or in a maintenance closet. It’s where she goes when she’s upset.”

Peter stopped his instinct to run to her. “That doesn’t concern you?” he couldn’t help asking.

“It’s just what she does.” Peter couldn’t help the concern washing over him when he heard the indifference in Harry’s tone. Even Harry didn’t care. “She’s dramatic. Don’t buy into it.”

“That’s sad, though. Isn’t it?” he asked, confused.

“That’s more of a personal matter. If you want to stick around, maybe don’t get involved.” Knowing better than to answer, Peter left.

* * *

Peter joined Michelle’s side as she leaned her head against hot walls around them. Peter was already starting to sweat a little

“It’s really hot in here,” he said, just to say something.

“It’s really cold out there,” she retorted in a mumble.

“Okay, I deserved that. Look, I-”

“Go away, Peter,” she said, deadly serious.

“Michelle-”

“People only call me that when they want something. Go away, Peter.” Looking in her eyes, Peter didn’t see nearly as much anger as he had expected. Instead he saw a kind of frustration manifesting itself as her eyes got red.

“Are you going to cry?” he asked helplessly. Before he could even regret his moment’s honestly, her face curled up as her anger built.

“Get out!” she barked at him like she was shooing a pest. Peter just ran for the door, sincerely afraid. He’d never seen her like that before. He never really understood what it was like letting her down when she had no expectation for him, but this time he could really feel the gravity of how she felt. The room was dark, confined and lonely. If that was where she sought comfort, Peter realized, things were so much worse than he’d guessed.


End file.
